


There Is a Cost

by flyingdutchman



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Desire, Guilt, Love, Multi, Post-Dead Man's Chest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingdutchman/pseuds/flyingdutchman
Summary: After Elizabeth leaves Jack to the Kraken, she wrestles between guilt and desires. Will and Elizabeth catch a misunderstanding which change their lives forever. Will decides on a way to get what he wants most, and the crew plan their next adventure to Singapore. Post-DMC.





	There Is a Cost

“So tell me, what’s become of my ship?

 

Everyone gasped. Barbossa, the monster, the cursed captain who was dead, came out into the light. It couldn’t be him! Pintel and Ragetti were terrified, Pintel still salty about how Barbossa shot him. Will still angry about how he had Elizabeth as a captive, Elizabeth angry at how he’d pointed a gun to her and captured Will before. Gibbs was Gibbs, he just went with the flow.

 

Will yelled. “How can we know we can trust him?”

 

Tia Dalma replied. “I brought he’ to help bring Jack back.”

 

“How do you know he’s not going to kill us when we aren’t looking?”

 

Barbossa laughed. “If I did plan on doing that ye’ wouldn’t know.” he stepped forward, “Besides, I don’t need that-- I want her. I want the Black Pearl.”

 

Will needed the Black Pearl, but if that meant going through Barbossa: he didn’t know if it’d work. Will stepped back.

 

“Ah.. Miss Turner. I see ye’ affairs with pirates haven’t run dry.”

 

Elizabeth pouted and held her chin up, she was too fearful to defend the name. She hid behind Will partly.

 

“If you dere’ to bring back witty Jack, then yoo’ must trust him.” Tia snapped to the group, and they knew her choice.

 

 

-

 

 

“Who do you plan to send over to his’ lord of Singapore?” Gibbs questioned the group, moving his hands to point at a sullen map. They all stared at him, and Barbossa turned around from a rusted desk that bore many all the cutlasses from the group. He cackled loudly.

 

“Aye, What be’ we find, you ask? We don’t need to interrupt his hospitality.”, he pointed to the middle of the map and twisted a small blade. “ The charts arr’ what we need.”

 

The room was dimmed by many candles, the distant choir and voices from outside made the meeting more eerie than it had to. Will and Elizabeth sat at opposite ends of the room, Elizabeth near Tia, and Will near Gibbs. Barbossa was in the middle, with ‘Jack the Monkey’ at his side.

 

It was dusk, a cruel night indeed. Jack had fallen to the depths in the disrupting arms of the kraken, but Tia warned to bring him back. Will was betrayed, and Elizabeth was struggling with her contradicting needs.

 

“Sao Feng.”, Barbossa continued, “He leaves them be to himself at all times. Now who be the brave captive, and sail to his lair?”

 

Will was curious. Could these charts somehow save his father, and well as Jack? His ever growing longing for his family commenced. His mind raced: Would bringing back Jack claim Elizabeth? Sure. Maybe Will could just get the charts, lead Jack to somewhere, and save his father. This was true trepidation.

 

“To what.. do they lead?”, Will asked, his face in a confused but destined look. Tia looked from Elizabeth sitting next to her, and back to Will. She smiled eerily, waving her hands, she started to console to him.

 

“To da’ end, of course.”, She explored. Tia stood up. Her dress was lain with mud and unknown substance of what you’d expect of a swamp. She walked past the group, behind Will, and then to a wooden cabinet. She looked back at all of them with a doubtful look and nodded.

 

“All of you.” she accused, “You say you are willing, but da’ thoughts you show don’t act it.”

 

Will frowned, trying to explain. “I’m willing—”. His response was paused from a distinct knowing smile from Tia Dalma. That same smile, that smile laden with the grudging melancholy of the unknown. It peered at him wantingly, but his soul didn’t lean towards her calling at all. Barbossa looked relieved.

 

“Great. The whelp will do.”

 

Elizabeth looked up. She wanted to stop Will, stop him from going away again. Her face was etched like she wanted to speak. She stopped herself,  turned her chair away from even a small chance to face Will; who glanced at her, noting her attitude. Will looked to Barbossa once again, he knew what he wanted.

 

“I’d like to retrieve them with a deal, Barbossa.” Will stated.

 

“Ah. Then Miss Turner goes with you?” Barbossa answered, curiously expecting.

 

“No— I didn’t mean that.” Will glanced to Elizabeth, who was now looking at him.

 

Elizabeth scoffed, “Swann.”

 

Will acted like he ignored the remark, and gave off a look.

 

The room was silent, awkward even: the fear of unfaithfulness of loyalty was clear in Will’s eyes. Tia Dalma studied them quietly, Gibbs and Barbossa looked to the map. Barbossa looked back upwards, his conscience clear.

 

“Alone I suppose, Turner?” Barbossa replied, looming over their close drama.

 

Will looked down and cracked a small sarcastic smile. He finally got up, his hair in his face, and nodded.

 

“I go and get the charts: bring them back. You bring back Jack. Without Elizabeth, or myself”

 

He looked back to Elizabeth again, then quickly avoided her changing gaze. He longed to spend time with her, but now was not the time. She gave him a deafening stare of disgust and betrayal. Barbossa stood up as well, paced slowly towards Will and held out his hand. “Your accord?”

 

Will went out and shaked it. “My accord.”

 

Tia spoke again in a warning tone, but a one that whistled like the sea. Will, Barbossa, Gibbs, and Elizabeth looked to her. “Dat be ah long journey, are you certain you want to brave wit it alone?”

 

“If this is what gets Jack back or leads to it, then I shall. Alone. Only this, nothing else.”, Will replied. He was lying against his teeth, but this was for Elizabeth. This all was for Elizabeth: her mourning or detrimental thoughts gave off a steam of uncertainty to his mind, and he didn’t like it.

 

Elizabeth felt ignored, but she wanted to be ignored. Did she want Will to stay because of how rash he was? Did she feel that he was leaning away, going farther from her than he ever had been? She knew he had seen her and Jack, and for that; she was mortified. In her being, roars of opposites battled each other and they seemed to never mend. She couldn’t take it anymore.

 

She sat up, straightened her top, and grabbed a coat from the floor. She then left the entire room with no sign, no goodbye, nothing.

 

Will watched, “--lizbeth. Wait.”, he blurted in confusion.

 

She went further to close the door, finally free from the anxiety-brimming shack.

 

“I have to go.”, he choked, nodding towards the door.

 

He walked into the next room, and ran into a bottle that rung on a tiller off the ceiling. Startled, he was greeted by none other than Tia Dalma again, but her mood had somewhat changed.

 

“Is dis’ truly what you want? To lose risk losing de’ beloved, to part de’ wretched.”

 

“What I want is of no importance to you.” he retorted, backing away. Tia however was faster, and brought him closer again.

 

She hissed serenely. “Ah. It tis’ foolish ta’ play wit’ what you think destiny calls you”

 

“Destiny calls me to no one.” He rebuked, tired of all the nonsense she’d gathered. He looked past her, to the door. His mind ached to move to it, but her presence was altogether too much to handle.

 

“It da-s not call you to she?”, Tia looked in the direction of where Elizabeth was outside, “Unwilling.. Torn.. You don’t know she’s heart.”, Tia caressed his wrist, but he ripped away. Will looked into her eyes, confusedly.

 

He defended. “I do know her heart.”

 

She pointed. “And you don’t your own? William Turner..”

 

At that he moved away, managing to get out of her trance of following the conversation. “What do you want of me?” He grimly asked, now catching the aura of her voice a threat.

 

“Not-a ting’. It which I don’t want for you for which I dere’ speak.”, She was psychotically calm, but gave off the usual feeling of dread. She pressed on once more, raising her arm to his cheek, getting close. Will finally mustered up the drive to get past her, and out the door. She eerily muttered.

 

 

-

 

 

Elizabeth was outside, sitting on a broken portside cannon. The gleaming aura of her doubts, her desires, and guilt swarmed her at no ease. Instead she decided to listen to the choir, a choir of people who mourned for Jack. Did they see it in her that she killed him, or did they see something else, a Pirate. But no. These were the people that were freed by Sparrow’s doing. But, they didn’t know who sent him to the depths. It was Elizabeth.

 

Will approached her from behind, but he did not walk to her. He went to the opposite side of the balcony instead. Elizabeth needed Will, she wanted him, she desired him. But she’d never dare to speak when he was angry.

 

“Elizabeth.” He mumbled softly, visibly hurt by her doing. “Do you--”

 

She heard it in his voice, he was coaxing about Jack. Now Jack was a distant memory, a childhood fantasy she’d read about, but she thought about how he loved her if he did. No. Her thoughts fought each other, she did not love him. She did not? “He’s a pirate.” She mumbled.

 

Will sarcastically smiled, it was the only thing he could do. He turned around, facing Elizabeth who was looking at him from the corner. “Isn’t that what you fancy?” he chuckled sadly. “Is that the only reason you stayed, but left when you find out I wasn’t.”

 

She spat. “Will, it's not that way.” She turned around, hating to see him so broken hearted like this, to face the river, to look at the swamp. She felt his despair that had wretched him. Will was hurt, and he only lunged for answers that his soul would not give him. Would loyalty be bound to answer, or would misery sting him over and over again?

 

Will managed. “Then what is?”

 

Oh the anger that Elizabeth felt was not for Will, it was for herself. She was digging deeper, a disruptive chasm that would never be flourished. Will knew this, he doubted their relationship more than ever now. He had been going everywhere, doing everything all for her: but did she not care? Did she throw a trifled and deep in-danger ridden relationship away to the sea, all for a rum soaked pirate Jack?

 

“Why did you--?” Will asked, chokingly. He was betrayed. This now replenished his anger for Elizabeth, but he was mad at her loyalty. “I do all this for you and--”. He cut himself off again, paced to her and turned her around.

 

She quickly blurted. “It didn’t mean anything to me at all!” Elizabeth pushed him off and tried to walk to the other way, stopped and looked back.

 

He still had his focus on her. He roared. “And I’m supposed to admit that you do love me, you do care about someone besides yourself?”, he looked down, paused. “I’m supposed to be fine with you kissing every other man you see?”

 

She couldn’t bear it anymore. “No.” She ran toward the door but Will stopped her once more, tugging on her arm for her not to go out again. He led her back to him, close again. But their rivaling auras both tormented their hearts. No, their relationship would never be the same again; not anymore.

 

“You nearly excuse every possible thing with the tiniest possibility that they’re a good man.” He said, the pain more present in his voice by each syllable. He rounded on her once again, nearing her to the wall of the balcony, “Elizabeth. Am I not as good of a man as you’d like?”

 

This time she didn’t back up, she stood firmly. She ran the question through her head, but she came to one conclusion. It was she, she was the unbound one, she was the untrustable one, a serpent that slithered through the sheer depths of betrayal and heartbreak. “No-- You’re just.. too--”, She cut herself off again, embarrassed at herself. He nodded his head and furrowed his brow confusedly, but changed.

 

“Am I too good of a man to do this?”, he leaned in and kissed her. She willingly accepted, and they embraced despite their differences. This was their small connection, there was more passion in the kiss than anything they were saying in retrospect. Will pulled himself away, but before he could move, Elizabeth pulled herself closer and kissed him once more. He pushed her against the guard rail. She reacted. “You are.”

 

Now Will didn’t move, didn’t budge, didn’t involve himself more into the situation. He instead then sighed, and turned to the balcony entrance.  

 

“I know you’re trying to save your father. But, for what for?” She spoke, trying to console.

 

“A promise. Maybe you’ve heard of that?”, He retorted angrily.

 

Even though how much it stung, Elizabeth still went on with exploring the conversation. It hurt them both. “Will, you can’t save everyone-- but you can save yourself.”

 

He turned his face. “You wouldn’t know, as you’ve never cared.”

 

“What’s your plan, what’s your choice? You’d leave me for him at any given.”

 

“Elizabeth, you don’t understand.” He cried furiously, but he didn’t have enough care to raise his voice higher.

 

“You’ll kill Jones.., and save your father, but what then, Will. What then?” She demanded, going close to him again.

 

He stayed put and tensed at the subject. “I don’t know.”

 

“Exactly.” Elizabeth crossed her arms on her waist and scoffed.

 

He turned finally, and smiled in disgust. “And while that, I suppose you and Jack have some business to do?”

 

“Jack is dead!”

 

Her eyes filled with tears, and her regret was too much to bear. But Will only noticed of how she cared for Jack, she cared for him more than she cared for this. Would she care as much if Will was dead? Would she sail for him, to fetch him from the depths. No, because Jack was in the locker, not Will. He couldn’t help but wonder the odds of her sympathies. He turned to the ladder, unleashing a desire to jump off, to perhaps break something other than his heart now.

 

He heard her walk away, but he had no breath to yell, so he calmly whispered.

 

“Elizabeth.”

 

She had already left the room. It was just him and the cruel silent winds, the people who sat with their candles in the bayou, and the one’s who’s candles blew out. But he had no urge or strength to go back inside. The sea was a curious thing, it led him to meet her, but it led someone who lived by the sea threatening to steal her away. This person was now dead, at the bottom of the ocean and now Will regretted the choice to save him again.

 

What was up with Jack, what was the thing that made her fancy him? Jack never was the one who truly loved Elizabeth, who would do anything for her. Will slumped, and sat down, dangling his legs from the treehouse. Jack. Jack was selfish and manipulating: he literally submitted Will to Jones’s crew knowing that act could possibly get Will killed.

 

But Will needed the Black Pearl, he needed her’ to save his father; to kill Jones.

 

No, Elizabeth was right, what would happen after? Kill Jones, get someone else to be Captain? He truly knew nothing of the Dutchman, and was so terribly naive.

 

Will wondered if going further in unsolved family ordeals would make him lose Elizabeth. But, She betrayed him! She kissed him on that godforsaken mast in pure daylight.

 

“Ah tis’ love. You wondah’ if her’s for you.” Tia Dalma stood in the doorway, dimming some of the light from inside. Will did not turn, in fact this made him want to jump off even more. She warned. “I would not doo’t if I werr’ you. Tere’ is a time and a place! Not now.”

 

He didn’t reply, just sat still looking at all of the disarray swamp.

 

“The lady. She for yoo. Heal wit’in time.”

 

“Her name is Elizabeth.” He raised his voice, still leaving his back to her.

 

“I know.”

 

Her voiced cawed like a ocean’s crow, and it rattled through his bones. He could not let his guard down, he could not calm. It was like a scar, the feelings he felt would never leave him.

 

“You know if ere’ is to-o be someting’ you want, you must lay someting’ down to yield it.”

 

“And what is that?” He got up from the ledge, grabbed the railing, and turned back towards the entrance in which Tia was already in front of him. He backed up at her sight: almost tripping off the balcony.

 

“Ahh.” She smiled at his cautious behaviour. He walked closer to the safe part of the ledge, and leaned.

 

“I beg your-”

 

“Freedom.” she resumed and answered. “Tis’ if you let to’ save te’  soul. Granted.. Forfeit.” She led her hand to his cheek, but he let her. He truly didn’t have the care to stop her.

 

He protested. “I’ve never had freedom?”

 

“Ahaha. You know it, you do.” She led her hand down to his shoulder for a second or two, but then retreated it.

 

“Like I thought, you truly don’t know what you’re talking about.” His anger seared in him like hot fire, and her words never fueled it. His eyes looked to the water, the water that beat softly. The rain. The rain started to pour, but he didn’t get under the shade. Tia, despite getting wet, went on with sorrow.

 

“You wouldn’t want me to talk te’ truth that you want.”

 

He wanted answers. “Then speak it.”

 

“You’ll need to know first, me” Her hand reached for his, but he took it to himself and it finally got too much to handle.

 

“It’s a trick, everything you say! Every word you say is a riddle! What do you expect?” His tone grew larger with every seething wave. Will’s eyes flashed in madness, in confusion, and in pain. He shivered.

 

“You do understand, William Turner. You do not know yet what it is.”

 

“Why tell it to me, when you don’t expect me to understand it?” He asked softly, embarrassed by his fuss as he last said it.

 

“It is so you do, when tis’ the right time.”

 

“Exactly, Exactly! This is what I really need right now.” He fumbled for the door, passing her once again, feeling as he’d angered her once more: but she was calm. He ran away, ran into the living room in a rush.

 

Pintel, Ragetti, Barbossa, and Gibbs sat near the table, the map now held by several colored needles.

 

“Aye, he’s shivering.” Ragetti noticed, getting everyone’s full attention on Will. Will however, was embarrassed.

 

“Where’s the rooms?” He asked quickly, ignoring Ragetti’s statement.

 

“Miss Turner’s ain’t it? Only was two, hers was farthest left.”, Pintel pointed, “Over there.”

 

Will could correct him, but he was neither in the mood or in the right mental state. He nodded with thanks and slowly paced his way there, his whole body, back, and soul aching. This trek was the hardest to do, and he knew it was his fault that she’d distanced herself from him. He opened the door.

 

Elizabeth was sitting on the bed, and she glanced at him. She was sorry, she wanted to apologize with every bit of her being, but she didn’t have the strength to. Strong, Heroic, Noble; Those things never matched up to her, and now she was filthy. ‘Pirate’

 

That word rung in her ears, at she was thankful it didn’t ring in his. Will was still shivering, his clothes were nearly drenched in the humid vile rainwater that thrummed the walls of the cabin.

 

She wanted to heal him, to make him whole.

 

She wanted to kiss him, to replenish their aptitude of their love

 

She wished they’d had that wedding, to announce their love to all.

 

She wanted love, a thing she didn’t know that they both had anymore.

 

But they did, they both held it deep inside: but both their unwillingness strung true, doubting each other as they ever did. With every word being a violent strike to themselves and their attitudes like a gashing wound.

 

It was because of Jack? Or was it because of Will’s father?

 

Not even one of them could find a reason for their separation now, and they both weren’t bold enough to say sorry, or apologize. Elizabeth turned around, facing the wall.

 

Will just walked to a chair next to a worn down desk that laid the room, he just sat down; studying the many bottles, and a letter in some unknown language-- a letter that seemed unfinished. He looked to her.

 

“I’m leaving, at midnight today.” He looked down.

 

She listened and her face fell, so she resumed eye contact elsewhere. Will went on.

 

“I’ll bring him back, I can go to the world’s end and get him if you want. But, please promise to stay here.”

 

She huffed, her eyes weary and tired as she looked into his eyes. “I don’t need your protection.”

 

All he wanted was for her to be safe, to not be held in the uncharted waters of danger and sullen in a band of wretched misfits. He couldn’t reply to that, and if she didn’t want his protection-- Then he would not give it to her, he’d train himself to not care. He’d respect her wishes.

 

She returned, “You should get changed. You look awful.” She paused. “I can get the witch-”

 

“Don’t talk to her.” He muttered, with a trifling heat: but Elizabeth got up anyway. She went to the door, opened and closed it. He was indeed cold, the water stinging his scars from the whip that Bosun owned. He had been on the dutchman, who’s waters were terribly humid and admittingly freezing at times. Now it was a warm Jamaican night, but he was a bit sick.

 

-

 

 

Elizabeth approached the eerie lady who was Tia Dalma. She neither did want to talk to her as she was worried of her intentions, and she somewhat felt angry at this lady. The room was empty, the setting serene, and the smell of faint cacao and rum brimmed the edges like a led parchment.

Tia Dalma was at her desk, looking at the same map she somewhat moved from the other desks earlier. She smiled. “You ar’ the une’ who did it.” She grabbed for a bottle that was musty and dark.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

She laughed, her thick accent rampant. “You kno’ what I mean, Elizabeth Swann.”

 

Alas Elizabeth did know what she referred to. She knew now that the witch knew that she had killed Jack, and for that it battered her over again. Tia resumed to her work, making a potion or such intricacies. Elizabeth finally found the courage to speak.

 

“Will. He’s sick, he needs some clothes to have for Singapore tonight.” She muttered, avoiding Tia’s gaze--worrying she may say something. No, Tia just moved to a large basket of things and set them out on the table. She then set out a mug of some liquid, and pointed to it. “To protect.”

 

Elizabeth faked a smile, and went to pick the things up. Tia Dalma’s voice strung. “What would yo’ do for him?” Elizabeth questioned in her mind, was she talking about Will or Jack? Tia already sensed this. “It is not safe if you choose to part wit’ one or another.”

 

Elizabeth was now confused, what was she talking about? “What?” She managed, her mind aching.

 

“Him.” Tia Dalma neared her face to head toward where Will and Elizabeth’s room was at. Now Elizabeth wondered why Tia referred to Will as a “it.”, but she went on with getting the things and ignoring.

 

Tia resumed. “Would you do’ for him?”

 

Angry, confused, and wretched Elizabeth blurted. “I love him.”

 

Tia smiled and replied, “Then you will.”

 

Elizabeth got the pile of clothes, and the cup of the unknown substance and hurried out of the room.

 

 

-

  


Will got up from the chair and went to the door, maybe to talk about the plans-- which he knew of course. All he wanted was not to be alone, to not be away from anybody. Will fastened his hand onto the door, and almost pulled it open until..

 

Elizabeth awaited, her hair down, her hands holding a pile of clothes. He moved out of the way and retreated backwards, and she brought them and set them onto the bed. “Tia Dalma. She had some old clothes she bartered awhile back.” There was a billowy top, like the one he had but only burgundy, as well there were cargo pants, and weathered boots. He studied them, hesitantly.

 

“I’m not wearing those.”

 

The door was still open, and Barbossa who was heading to the living room overheard and laughed. “Then ye’ll be not wearing anything!! Haha!” the monkey on his shoulder squeaked,  “Last thing I be expecting, for what it’s worth. You know how Singapore is?”

 

“No?”

 

“Then I suggest ye wear it. For Lord sake, Turner, man up.” Barbossa turned around into the living room, and rolled his eyes. Elizabeth stared at Will from the other side of the room, still with the cup in her hand. Will closed the door, she walked next to him and handed him the cup.

 

“Tia Dalma said it’s for protection.”

 

He was about to try it but questioned. “Yours?”

 

“Likewise, not. Yours, I do think, though.”

 

He paused and set down the cup on a desk. Will was not going to trust Tia with all her antics, but Elizabeth was worried with her all-knowing qualities. Will was still shivering, still cold, and still sick, but he was angry and he did not want to try something he didn’t trust.

 

“Why won’t you tell me everything, Elizabeth?” This time, Will’s voice was weak, and it didn’t seem as he wanted to fight. He was tired, the weight of the burden he psychologically beared present upon him. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him, and if she would say something: would he not love her? Would he look at her differently?

 

“I don’ k--” She murmured softly.

 

Will grabbed the clothes from the middle of the bed, and headed toward the door. He set them on a cabinet and looked to Elizabeth. He didn’t want to go. He had to. His eyes were twisted in pain, and he was breathing hard from all his sickness.

 

He did fear that if Jack was brought back: that she’d run away from him; away to pirates and thieves. Will wondered if their relationship was validated, or their love was lost just like the Black Pearl in this instance.

 

“I love you.” He spoke, his voice true but solemn.

 

Elizabeth walked closer to him, she sensed the small torch of anger that he held back by her doing.  

 

He resumed quietly, sad and angry. “But, I don’t know if we can go on like this.”

 

She met his gaze and stepped forward. He kissed her once again, this time much more passionately than the first. She accepted again, for this could be the last time they’d embrace.

 

All the moments.

 

The good, like that time he was so excited about planning their wedding. Or maybe when Will finally gave in to giving Elizabeth fencing lessons and teaching her how to handle swordplay, which in he was the best teacher. When they had high hopes for the future, to have a life not even destiny could tarnish.

 

Even the bad never phased them. The time of Port Royal’s mourning after the Black Pearl raid? Will and Elizabeth both held each other up strong, he was her shoulder to cry on-- and he supported anyone in the port who needed help with their needs.

 

Together they were never apart, they were lovers. Now both of them were held away from each other, whether by choice or whether by fate.

 

Will pulled away, and nodded timidly.

 

“Goodbye. Elizabeth.”

 

He turned around with his things, left the room and closed the door.

 

Elizabeth stood in the room processing what had just happened--withholding her feelings for Will’s departure. Culpable melancholy.

 

 

-

 

 

It had been two weeks since Will’s arrival to Singapore and the crew still were hustled in the shack. It was a warm July night, almost moonlight at least. There was something off in the distance, and almost everyone knew it.

 

Tia Dalma burst into Elizabeth’s room with no warning, she seemed worried. “We must go!”

 

Elizabeth was dressed, she just got her weapons and boots on in a rush. She ran out of the bedroom. The crew was all settled in the living area lobby, and Elizabeth still had no clue what was going on-- her mind tensed and she was terrified. Barbossa and the crew somewhat were telling Tia Dalma about something.

 

“I told him not to be caught!” Barbossa shouted, he was worried.

 

Pintel replied. “Aye, what must we do?” He grabbed all of the swords and put them in a bag.

 

“You was leaving him with barely no weapons, sir. He was bound to be caught sometime.” Ragetti spoke, adding on to Pintel.

 

Barbossa looked to Elizabeth: who he suspected her confusion. “Ah, missy. Your fiancee be caught by nothing other than Sao Feng!”

 

Tia Dalma whispered to Elizabeth. “Protection?”

 

She muttered under her breath. “He did not.”

 

Tia Dalma’s face fell, she went to grab her things and lay them in a basket.

 

Gibbs looked to Barbossa. “What is our heading, sir?”

 

Barbossa chuckled. “Singapore.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the end of Dead Man's Chest--like the other fan-fiction about this on Ao3, it is post-canon plot filling. If you enjoyed this, please give me a comment down below. When you send me a review, it helps me on my next work and how to improve it. 
> 
> I had such a pleasure writing Tia, Will, and Elizabeth from that era: and I apologize for my attempt at deciphering Dalma's thick Jamaican accent. I really did try my best. 
> 
> If you didn't get the story-- here's a quick summary of what you've just read. 
> 
> So, Barbossa comes back and the whole crew is astonished. The crew decide on someone to steal the navigational charts from Singapore, and that in retrospect is Will Turner. Will and Elizabeth don't tell eachother the full extent of their secrets and it gets them into a argument. Will get's angry at Tia Dalma for her vague answers of his questions. Will has a cold, and denies to get clothes. But the way he does get his AWE costume from Tia Dalma (cannonly you can study the costume and actually see.. wow!), but he doubts her and on top of that he doesn't want her 'protection' drink, as he doesn't trust her. He leaves Elizabeth, and swears in himself to not talk to her as he doesn't want to anger her. He leaves for Singapore. Two weeks later, the crew finds out he's been caught by none other than the pirate lord himself, Sao Feng. They then plan their heading to Singapore-- and that's where AWE starts. 
> 
> Thanks for the support!


End file.
